One Great Day
by peroxidepest17
Summary: Summary inside. :P At least, I think it's humor...


Title: One Great Day  
Author: Celeste  
Rating: PG-13 for language and violence  
Summary: Spike has his day.  
Disclaimer: Gosh I wish I owned Spike…but I don't. Or any of the rest of them. I'm just messing with em for a while.  
Feedback: YES! :P But be nice… my muse is insolent and flames will just make it want to cause mischief.   
Distribution: Ask and ye shall receive. Unless you like Spike or Wesley in which case it would be against my religion to give this to you. :P  
  
The Vampire grunted and pushed his face off the cold, cement floor, wondering why he was on it in the first place. Wiping some wetness that nad found its way to his cheek, he sat up with great effort. Looking around, he wondered exactly what had happened that had him feeling so damn groggy. He didn't quite know. But there were corpses everywhere. And enough blood to fill a small swimming pool. It dripped from the ceilings, the windowpanes, layered on the bodies like thick red paint… That should have been a good thing then, right? He must have had a real good day. The vamp leaned back thoughtfully; brow creasing as he attempted to clear his head and further analyze what the hell was going on. A slew of corpses and a pile of ash with a stake setting atop it were thrown around him rather messily. Well… not ashes anymore. More like pasty gray stuff. Could be from mixing with the sticky red wine everywhere.  
The smell was still strong and coppery … an after affect of his bloodletting stating it hadn't happened that long ago. It still smelled fresh. Pushing his demon back in he let his human features settle around him and he grunted to his feet. Straightening his duster he took a tentative step forward to look into the face of one of his victims. Maybe that would explain something. Because for the life of him, things were pretty clouded.  
Recognition glimmered in his eyes as he locked gazes with dead ones that could never look back. What the hell? Had he… he turned around swiftly, only to be met with yet another pair of unseeing eyes. Familiar in their horror filled countenance. They boy's face was frozen in his final scream, tacked to the wall with a careless tree branch as if he were a painting. Well, the vampire thought it might be a masterpiece. Blood dripped down Xander's pants leg and pooled on the floor like a puddle of heavy rain. That was starting to make him hungry again. He promised himself he'd grab someone for a snack the second he construed what had occurred here hours before.   
Starting in a slow, 360 degree turn, he smiled to himself. Well. He did make a wonderful mess, didn't he? The watchers, both of them… were everywhere. He looked up at a dismembered leg hanging from the ceiling fan, bone hanging half in and half out of the dead flesh. He could hear the flies buzzing around too. A nice place to lay their eggs and get a free meal it was. He couldn't discern which watcher it had come off of though. Maybe the younger one. The one that begged and screamed like a child for his life. Yes, it was all coming back to him now. He was starting to remember. Stupid watcher. It had been fun taking him apart bit by bit. He'd done it enough in the past so that his victim hadn't died until he had ripped apart his chest cavity. Long after all his limbs had been removed. The vamp chuckled again. How beautiful. But then again, he had always been an artist.   
The second watcher? Now that had been just…neat. He'd looked at his attacker with absolute betrayal… stuttering in pain about all that he and the slayerettes had done for him. So, the vamp decided to try and preserve that look by hacking off Giles' head. It rested now, eyes open and questioning on the windowsill, facing the outside night. Like an ornament. A Christmas one. Yeah.   
Who else? Oh look… Red was really living up to her nickname now. She was covered in it. The other witch's that is. He could recall the look on her face, and her scream… when he had set Tara's eyes in her hand and smashed them, as if he had given her a high five. Granted, that had gotten a little messier than he had planned but it was all fun and games. He grinned to himself as the thought *till someone looses an eye* filtered across his brain in an undertone. Laughing aloud now, he picked up Willow's head and faced it the right way, the way it would have been if had been attached to her body by more than a thread of remaining vertebrae.   
Behind Red he found himself a teeny tiny body. Well, it had been bigger, but after he had finished playing with it he could compact it into a Fed Ex box and mail it away for under 5 dollars. She had always been annoying anyway. Talking about boils and syphilis and all that nasty rot. Deserved the whole draining through her toes thing. He giggled. What a funny way for someone to die. But he supposed he was the only one that thought that.  
Sticking his hands forcefully into his coat pockets, the vamp surveyed the rest of the crypt; unimpressed. Nothing else that interesting left… Cordelia stretched out in a lewd position with a hole he could probably throw a football through in her chest and Joyce's battered remains strung up like New Year's lights across the walls. The killer sighed and pulled out a cigarette as he lastly regarded the pile of Ash. Poofy had really poofed rather well. Gave up fightin' the moment he saw his girl… his girl… he paused in the middle of lighting his smoke and craned his neck, looking around a little more.   
There she was. Laid out on the crypt, eyes closed in a sleep she'd never awake from. He had been more careful with her. A traditional death for the chosen one and all. And, well, she HAD been the love of his unlife; he figured he might as well have made it a bit more romantic (sadistic, maybe, but still…) he shrugged. The usual rip her throat out and drink her slayer type death. Once on Dawson's he had heard someone say, "you never monkey with tradition". So he had kept that in mind. Curious, the vamp shoved his cigarette into his pocket and stepped up to her, sniffing the air around her almost tenderly. It still lingered with the scent of her vanilla perfume and a twinge of rot. Well. Leaning over her, he pushed on her chest delicately and a fresh spattering of blackened blood squirted out from the holes in her neck. Looked like a juice box when you squeezed it, it did. He managed to suppress a giddy giggle and stepped back from the petite blonde's finals resting place.   
Now he knew. Clear as day it was Captain Cardboard had been talking to his super honey about how everything the initiative had done was shuttin' down so the government could hide their tracks. Seems they forgot about the little censor in his head that also had belonged to the initiative. Shut down. Spike had been so happy. In fact, so happy he had paid the Scoobies a visit and forced them all to celebrate with him. Even called and invited Angel and his cronies, he was that happy. Spike retrieved his smoke and finally lit it, puffing away in self-satisfaction. All in all, it looked like he had had a pretty good day. "Good day? Bloody hell, looks like I got the whole A team. I had a GREAT day, didn't I?" He stated to himself with an off-handed shrug. Stepping over the body of soldier boy, and then his head… and then his face (in that respective order) Spike made his way to the door. First, he was going to get something to drink. Then he'd celebrate with the rest of Sunnyhell. Yeah.  
  
  
END  
  
  
  



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